


Brother

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Childhood Adventures, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Gladio knew that anyone could be trained to be a Shield. But he was uniquely qualified to be a big brother.





	Brother

They all had roles. They had trained for those roles, those aspects and segments of their lives that would revolve around Noctis and his own role as heir to the kingdom. Ignis had trained his whole life to stand by Noctis as his support— his guide through diplomatic and wartime proceedings, the tactician for Noctis’ own Council when it came time to build it. Prompto was the exception, the voice of the common people, the only one not raised among the nobility and wealth that the kingdom could produce— the one to remind Noctis, through their little spats and adventures, that they were still human in the end. 

And Gladiolus, he knew what it meant to be a Shield.

He had watched his father perform the task. He had watch his father deal with the fact that his friend, his king, was too powerful to sustain the magic that protected the kingdom. He had watched, piece by piece, as his father lamented that he wasn’t able to protect the king from fate. From the slow burn of the Ring of the Lucii. 

He knew that a Shield was meant to be among the strongest warriors in the land. One of the top soldiers. One of the men whose loyalty could never be questioned. He heard lecture and lesson about it, even with Regis attempting not to smile at the formality. At the stern-faced young man Gladio had let himself become. 

All military skills— combat, strategy, survival— was honed at the Crownsguard Academy. It instilled a respect for the system while drilling in the reminder of the history behind the position. The children who flooded the school would fill the ranks of the Crownsguard, if not the Kingsglaive, after graduation. 

Gladio had to prove that he was better than all of them. Gladio had to prove that he would be the best of them all. That he would be able to stand between any threat, Nif or otherwise, and his prince. His king. 

When he graduated the program at fourteen, Noctis was a sullen, spoilt little boy. By the time he was sixteen, he had realised that Noctis just needed to be heard. Not trained. 

Ignis had years befriending Noctis. He had years learning his charge and supporting him. He had years that Gladio now needed to catch up on. And he was fully aware that their fathers worried about that. About them and the rocky start to their relationship. While Ignis— Iggy— had years to come up with ways to make the sullen little prince smile. 

“That looks dangerous.”

Those two had years together to work out how to escape the confines of the Citadel when they needed.If only for a short time. 

But the garden walls were still high, and someone had moved the ladders for storage now that the season was over. Gladio wouldn’t learn how Ignis got to the top of the wall until the next week, when he’d see the other boy scramble up the stone with ease— catching handholds that weren’t obvious at a first glance, finding the tiny imperfections that could give him purchase. But he caught them as Noctis was trying to get up too. As the prince— quiet, sulky Noctis— tried to jump enough to catch the hand that Ignis was reaching down to him with. 

They both froze as he spoke. As he crossed his arms and looked over the situation. The escape in process. 

“How do you intend to get down on the other side?”

It was a legitimate concern. It was hard enough getting up there without help. Getting down would be trouble. And then there was getting back into the Citadel afterwards. 

“There is a line of trees,” Ignis said. He was stiff, straightened, as Noctis stopped trying to jump up to meet him halfway.

They could be in trouble. Ignis could be punished for putting the prince at risk. Noctis could be grounded. 

“And getting back in?”

“We tend to time our return to the weekly kitchen delivery.”

Noctis was looking at him with those big blue eyes Iris liked to talk about (”so sweet”, “so cute”). He knew the rules better than Ignis did, he understood his position better than Ignis did; Gladio was learning that Noctis knew the limitations placed on him for his position better than most. But he also understood that Gladio was his Shield. That there were expectations with that— loyalty to the crown, to the throne, to the kingdom. 

Gladio preferred loyalty to the person he was expected to serve. 

He crouched, hands linked together to fit Noctis’ foot. “You need a boost.”

The grateful smile was worth it.

Gladio had spent his whole life learning what it meant to be a Shield for the king. He knew what was expected in the role, the honour and decorum of it all. He understood where he would stand, what he would say, how he was expected to act. He had learnt the details in school, and what happened when a Lucian ruler had no loyal Shield— like the Rogue, and the Just, having to hide or forge their own protections. 

But he had also grown up on stories of the adventures that had taken his father across Eos. He had listened, while playing with Iris when she was smaller, as his father spoke of how the king— “Reggie”— used to lead them into trouble, or how they would have to both keep Cor out of trouble. How they travelled through Nif lines, and fought daemons. His father used to say that he was the mature one in the group, and that his friends were all terrors. His king was the worst of them all, with his clever tricks and bold, silver tongue. 

And, braced with a shoulder to the Citadel garden wall, Gladio knew what could happen when someone who just needed a friend was left wounded or betrayed. And Noctis had been hurt enough. 

Anyone could be trained to be a Shield. Gladio liked to think that he was better prepared to be a brother. 

He followed them up and over, amused to see how Ignis had the whole route worked out. How familiar they were with this escape. 

“Where are we going?”

Noctis offered a bright smile, one that Gladio hadn’t seen since well before he had gone to the Academy. “There’s an ice cream cart nearby.”


End file.
